


Dyad

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, M/M, Smut, Time Travel, Top Charles Xavier, Unreliable Narrator, uhhh i think that's it for now lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: From Wikipedia: 'The pair of individuals in a dyad can be linked via romantic interest, family relation, interests, work, partners in crime, and so on.'You see, two certain men wanted to have Plan B in case everything goes bad, it's just that they forgot they even had a Plan B and well, now they're dead.I think that was Plan A but i think they also forgot that Plan A was made or maybe that's Plan C?No, I think they just don't know how plans work.In which two idiots literally said 'this time period is shit, i want to go to the future' and got what they wanted through sheer knowledge that mutants exist.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier





	Dyad

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll got confused with the summary? yeah me too.
> 
> Here *gives you this fanfic* don't lose it *wink*
> 
> Okay, ew, why did i do that. Just check out the story if you want to, forget i ever said anything lmao.

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

_\- Chapter One: Gold Is Not Fragile -_

  
They did not resolve their problems with each other, they bury it in anger.

That’s how their hate started. Anger, then regret, guilt and acceptance. Then, it’s back to anger again and the cycle continues. 

There was no talking except quick short thrums of undecipherable emotions passing through thin, stressed out strings of their subconscious.

Hundreds of their acceptations had reluctant tones because they were tired and exhausted of fighting one another _over and over again_. It was a purgatorial process of hesitance, anxiety and dread.

They raised their white flags not because they were back in the same side, _never that_ , but because they’ve run out of something to accuse the other, nothing changed neither did they see their faults when they both spoke of defeat.

They kept repeating the same problems until there’s nothing to wring out of the cloth.

_‘It ran dry’_ as they said.

In the end, everyone thought they’re done, _finally_.

But they’ve settled their arguments for a _comédie noire_ decision, their last goodbye and hurrah for _god knows why_.

They planned to have their funeral at the same time, in the same goddamn cemetery.

Raven, who’ve seen both sides of the same coin and seen their way of thinking, laughed because it was something that young Charles and Erik could joke easily on the back foyer until it was nearly night.

Emma heard genuine amusement and hysteria on her shaking shoulders up front and wanted to slap the senses back in her but alas, she needed to keep an eye out for the grieving Brotherhood members a few gravestones away.

Charles and Erik fear nothing except for the melancholy of their fellow mutants and they also knew Raven would understand the gesture of being in the same graveyard— _honestly, it’s still not sinking in_ —forever staying in the same soil and grass.

Sean stared with raised eyebrows, his blue-grey eyes in a frozen, mortified shock as he sees another casket—it’s gotta be Magneto’s coffin because it’s in _matte magenta_ —in a similar black gazebo tent, one gravestone away.

As he looked away, he turned to Alex and Hank beside him before he opened his mouth to speak.

Hank didn’t even notice Sean, he kept looking at whoever goes near the coffin and growl at others that smell funny.

Alex didn’t glare at him. _He stared_. 

Sean closed his mouth and look forward, leaning back his seat as some young lady tripped and almost hit her head on one of the poles of the gazebo tent, crying so loudly in her Jimmy Choos. 

Alex has his arms crossed, a carefully laid out blank expression on his visage as he looked at the coffin of his professor get mauled and cried over by heartless distant relatives. _What a bunch of assholes_.

Jean was... _confused_. She’s sure that the professor was still incredibly healthy at 82 and so was Magneto at 85. Judging from the dozens of missions he still partook monthly.

She’s sure that she saw him just last week, jogging in central park of all places.

Well, the presence of his mind at least but she didn’t see him in her peripheral because she ran away from the park, not wanting to fight at 7 o’clock in the morning.

Peter, Wanda, Lorna, David and the Frost sisters were there, alongside other people that should miss their professor dearly but had _a feeling_. So, everyone’s just more bewildered than sad. 

Peter had scrunched up eyebrows as he looked at the magenta coffin a few feet away, Wanda didn’t join X-Men or the school so she doesn’t know why she’s here, Lorna was on a vacation in Madrid, away from the bullshit that was her life in New York City and David had business back in LA. _He lives in Seattle._

While the Frost sisters Esme, Sophie and Phoebe had their heads tilted as they felt a presence that registers as _barely-Charles-Xavier_ and _barely-Erik-Lehnsherr_ from afar, they also felt David’s electrified presence as he sat down at the empty seat beside them.

“David,” Esme immediately asked as the triplets faced the man beside them, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“What, the three of you want to be the next Ghostbusters?” David bluntly asked, his arms crossed as the trio continued to stare at him.

“Just asking, Haller.” Sophie said, patting her sister’s arm.

“No.” He answered her question in a deadpan tone.

“Alright then.” Sophie said before leaning back, giving the side of David’s head a glare.

All in all, the students and teachers of the Xavier Institute wasn’t convinced this is the end. 

No tears of people close to them have been shed. Again, there’s a certain reassurance that they’ll be back. Someday, but not today.

The Brotherhood on the other hand had already disbanded their organization but they felt a glare in the back of their heads as they quit. 

They also know that there’s no way that Magneto just left. _No fucking way._

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

Memories play.

They sometimes play like movies.

A plot you’ve barely known, a setting is familiar but something is missing, the ensemble cast looks off and that constant feeling of ‘did you buy the wrong movie?’ persists in your brain.

Or maybe like a slideshow to present in front of associates, presenting each momentous occasion with a detached, formal tone, persuading them that these are ‘great!’, ‘splendid!’ and ‘fascinating!’.

And sometimes, to play with something that is not suppose to be played, is a tempting choice that not many pick.

Down underneath the soil of green pastures, a structure’s purpose has been accomplished.

It’s built long ago for a second chance, in case of things going haywire. Call it paranoia but the possibility of something happening that’s not according to plan is high on their list and they’re not going to die so easily, not yet when there’s so much things to be dealt and done with. 

They never stop and think that they could die from natural causes. With wars that needed to be won and crimes rates going higher and higher which causes riots on the streets, Erik and Charles thought that they would be part of a casualty. _How idiotic of a thought_.

In the dusk of a day from an era long gone, someone spoke through a silent game of chess.

_‘Resurrection is not something to play with.’ The other said gruffly, answering his friend’s question a few minutes ago._

_‘Why yes of course it’s not something to play with,’ The other replied incredulously before sipping his tea, looking at the other one with his electric blue stare, ‘we’re cheating death if we do.’_

_‘And you’re still going to do it.’ The other man said with a sigh, looking down at the chessboard and staring intently at the black queen piece standing bare in front of the white queen, worrying his lip in his teeth as he thinks._

_‘Well, my friend,’ He said, dropping his cup down the table with a barely heard sound of a soft thud, ‘I’ve never been the type to follow the rules.’_

_The gentleman that’s worrying about his next move only nodded slightly in agreement. Pioneers and inventors never comply with the rules, they change the rules._

_‘And who says I’m going to be doing this alone?’_

_Erik looks up, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly agape at Charles’ words._

_It wasn’t shock that painted his face but it was one with hope and disbelief while Charles smiles at him, the same hope in his eyes, nervousness making his hand fiddle with the chess pieces he has taken._

The mutant they found was older than them by a decade. She was a blonde haired lady with thick glasses and olive green eyes, in tandem with a girl that wears outfits that’s a bit out of fashion, lips painted red and a walking cane for the blind on her right hand.

_‘I want you by my side’_ They forgot who said it first but back then, they know the intensity and fear of that offer in the context they failed to recall as they passed away. The context in which they were going in the future, intact, youthful and alive to help, live and see.

But as years passed by, they forgot they ever made a deal, a contract with their signatures on the bottom, forgot that they had a plan with only the two of them in tow.

_‘Well, we need two people anyways, no need to worry when Irene isn’t worrying.’_

A connection tied them together, tighter than before. Glowing strings lay innocently around their figure, interwoven by fate and time.

_‘We need a piece of you presently, not a piece of you in the past or the future.’_

One golden glowing string was plucked out of the messy array, the blonde woman looked at it as if she can read through the fine textures of the string before she pulled it which snapped it clean from the pile. They both flinched as they physically felt something was removed in their physique before it dwindled down onto an empty, unfulfilled feeling.

_‘I’m sorry but the string can only store what it has before and today. So the memories you’ll create and the physical changes from this day onward will not be a part of this.’_

The woman by her side, Irene, took out a small translucent box, long enough for the string but not broad enough to be a burden to carry and softly placed the loose string inside, closing it with a resolute click.

That’s when their reckless decision settled deep in their bones, like the click was all it took for them to understand. They feel ecstatic, excited, hopeful, thinking of things that could happen, the advancements that could be.

And scared of their future selves’ actions, anxious of the possible downgrade of society, hoping that it would be better than what they have.

They talked about it for hours, Erik wanted to shout at him but he can’t, Charles wanted to shout at him because _he did not make the damn decision, he decided all on his own that he’ll be part of their ‘stupid’ plan._

_‘Before you go, please keep this a secret, don’t tell this to anyone. It could lead to a breakage in time.’_

Life isn’t a game.

They both forgot that cheating comes with guilt.

There’s a certain guilt when you think about offering a chance to live in the future to someone you’ve met a few weeks ago than to your own sister or the guilt of cheating death rather than end your story as soon as ‘The End’ comes onto the screen.

And so—forcefully, might i add—the world starts their beginning again.

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

A golden string float through the breeze, carefree and almost invisible in the sky by its thinness.

It slipped onto the cracks of a recessed floor hatch in the middle of a densely packed group of trees, miles away from the place they call home but not too far to need transportation.

Gliding down the small metal steps, onto the stone floor and flying high up the aluminum ceilings, it peeked its glow onto the only doorway at the end of the short hallway.

Slowly, It dispersed onto the motionless waters of a shallow pool, panel lights on the pool’s floors flickering on as stray particles of the string flicked the switch, the movement sounding more like a chuckle than a rustle.

Reflections of the water’s waves hit the white painted stone walls, coloring it with white gleaming lines that moved like frequencies in the dark. The room felt calming yet unnervingly quiet.

There’s silence for a few seconds, except for a small jolt of the clear water.

The meager golden particles clumped together and multiplied, as seen from the silhouette of two blurry figures of immobile bodies, in the process of being animated through the amount the string brought in the future and left out by those who took them.

The room paused as nothing came into view, no one popped up the pool’s surface.

But then, one bubble came up into the surface, then two and three before a mass of it crowded the shallow pool, like water that boiled in heat.

_Charles and Erik wakes up. Again._

They’re struggling and shivering in the cold, bare naked in this strange place they don’t vividly remember. Only recollecting it like a distant dream more than a memory.

With only the light underneath the pool, they looked at each other, breathing heavily.

What others would hear as a small scurry of noises was excessive sounds in their ears and in a way, they hear the thrum of existence too and felt linked in a way a rhythm makes people dance. Two against—and in favor of—the world.

“Hello, my friend.” Charles said hoarsely, a smile slowly growing on his face just as Erik’s lips slowly twitches into a big, sharp smile.

“Hello to you too.” Erik in a rough tone across him, his voice still thick with a German accent unlike the deceased Magneto that lost his accent as he continues to terrorize the world.

He combed back his hair as he let out breaths, filling the disbelieved silence. Both wide-eyed at what the surface up above would look like.

The pool jostled more as Charles shivered in the coldness and the excitement of seeing and living in the future.

He was cut off his thoughts by his friend moving to stand up. immediately looking away as he stepped off the pool, a blush dusting above his cheeks as he saw his behind for just a second.

“Charles, are you alright?” Erik said as he looked at the mirror nailed to the wall, glancing at the man as he suffers between staring at Erik’s _other_ parts and staring intently at the wall in front of him, his blue eyes barely there, the black of his pupils expanding.

“Oh, I’m quite alright,” He said as if he’s talking to the wall rather than his friend, “actually, splendid, now that I’m here with y— _in the future_ , that might or might not be incredibly advanced or just plain dead. If what we see up there is still the same, i wonder how they’ve continued to be like this for _god knows how long_ and-”

“I understand.” Erik simply said to make him stop, genuinely confused about his rambling.

The professor felt the need to drown himself in this shallow pool in hopes of returning back in 1962 and forget this ever happened because _what was that?_

“I’ll go and find my clothes then.” Erik said before he sauntered off, leaving Charles a red mess, in contrast to his friend's calm composure.

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

After Erik is back on his signature outfit of leather jacket, turtleneck and pants while Charles wore—of course—a crisp, navy blue suit and black formal shoes, they stood in front of the small steel steps Erik himself have built, anticipation running through the tied string that binds them together.

Erik turned his head to Charles, expecting him to take the lead.

“Maybe,” He paused for a second, “you should go first and see if it’s safe.”

Erik only nodded as a reply, taking each step leisurely before opening the hatch with a flick of his hand, graceful and interesting as ever to Charles’ eyes.

Light flooded them with the sun in the same angle as the time the mutant took the string out but the world was brighter and more colorful. _Odd._

1962 was bleak, the skies were ashen, filled with the aftermath of conflict upon conflict that never seems to end. This is different, extraordinary because they traveled through time and because he has never seen the sky _so bright_.

Charles quickly followed Erik climbing up the small set of stairs, ignoring his right foot’s slight trip at one of the steps as he gazed up at the peek of warm sunlight and oak trees.

Surrounded by a mix of incredibly old trees, lies the green pasture that a younger Charles have seen once from the window of his bedroom, when the sun was brighter than the rest of the days that year but amplified tenfold.

Wind blew, cooling them down from the heat of the sun and the strange joy that the land and the skies have, the mirth that _Westchester_ doesn’t have.

“This is,” Erik paused looking around the place through the scattered barks of trees, a calm smile slowly showing itself in his visage, “strange.”

“You mean different?” Charles said through the invisible stranglehold of emotions that ran him over, the same as the fresh breeze that galloped in the pastures, devoid of the smell of ash permeating the air.

He has never seen Westchester as bright as this, has never seen the world look so _free_.

Erik turned around to look at him, seeing his friend teary-eyed at the beauty that hides underneath the tint of gray that Westchester has—or currently, had.

In a sudden surge of emotions, he wrapped his arms around Charles’ shoulders and hugged him tight. The heaving and his silent cries are mute to the world but loud in his friend's head. Vulnerable was he, Charles knows Erik could not judge his loose hold over his composure.

And in the empty green fields, there behind barks of trees where he’s hiding his tears at the top of Erik’s shoulders, is the first time his world was silent and free of stray thoughts that wasn’t his, it was just him and the cries of his mind.

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

Erik can’t see what he once knew as the plain old fields around Charles’ mansion.

The placement and the color of the trees looks different, the slopes of the grassy ground felt different, even the sky felt like it wasn’t the same.

As they walked by the side of the road, they can hear birds and nearby animals that they haven’t heard in this particular area before. It looks alive, younger or maybe brand new.

“I feel like so much has changed yet nothing has,” Charles whispered, the volume of his voice barely heard amidst the noise of nature, fearful of what Erik might say, “it’s like I’m seeing a different county altogether.”

A car zoomed past them, faster than what they initially imagined vehicles in this time period could be and Erik, who reaches for metallic things out of habit, have glimpsed a sleek, smooth and light car and its complex engines.

But his attention is brought away from it quickly as he heard his friend’s anxiety seep through his small voice, reaching the very depths of his tainted soul more than anyone has ever set foot on. Like a dusted room opened for the first time in nearly a decade.

Charles was only met by silence, a hush he can’t describe that made him tense up from the very tips of his toes to the very top of his head, electrifying him tortuously and pushing his shoulders until he gives in, opening his mouth to apologize until—

“Don’t be like that.” Erik simply said, his voice carrying onto him but never further. His words confronts him but the correspondent is facing away, carefully blank when speaking and no countenance to look at and to give a solution as to what other meaning is underlying beneath.

He wants to be angry at him, for speaking so blankly and for comforting him with words yet cowardly hiding behind it as if he could ever judge him but who was Charles to judge when he does the same?

They continued to walk in silence, the communication on a standstill after his comforting, detached voice placed a blockade in the road.

And right there, on Charles’ telepathic horizon, he feels people walking around, inside and outside a familiar and unfamiliar place.

There are more than a dozen, the hallways are filled with students and teachers, mutants from the youngest at the age of six and the oldest, a teacher at the age of forty-two, contemplating if he should retire while teaching first-graders.

He blinked at the harmony, the unity and peace that emanated in the hallways were it was once filled with silence and dread; cold and austere even when the mansion is varnished and polished with warm paneled wood.

He stops for a minute, grabbing Erik by his elbow which made him flinch at his sudden touch, feeling a slight zap through his thick leather jacket underneath Charles’ fingertips, searing his skin with warmth that made his heart beat faster.

Misunderstanding his flinch, the professor removed his hold and steered clear of his elbows, giving amiable space between him and Erik before speaking.

“I could feel them,” Charles said awkwardly, glancing at his friend, “the presence of students and teachers I mean.”

“Then we’re near, right?” Erik asked, glancing down at Charles beside him.

He nodded, “Yes, we’re considerably near.”

Erik slowly and hesitantly, allowed himself to reach out in the horizon of his metal touch to check if it was the correct mansion, feeling the old foundations and gilded metals that surrounds it, including a great amount of watches, belts and other adornments.

As if driving a car, he could feel Charles’ presence in his mind, a person in the passenger seat just beside him as he touched and ran his hands over the metals softly.

Charles felt the softness of his touch and smiled, thinking about that time Erik said that he destroys everything he touches with his ‘stained’ hand. 

But what he sees here is his care and daintiness, something he doesn’t think he could ever have.

Him, a minuscule telepath, that doesn’t have any part in his grand memoir, would do anything to show him that there is delicateness in him, he wants to clarify that it’s bending without breaking, it’s floating deep in the sea without the fear of sharks. _Freedom in control_.

But what can he do when the other doesn’t participate in at least opening up and letting loose?

_Well,_ Charles thought, _patience has always been my best trait._

And Erik.

Erik has no idea what’s coming.

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

The two gentlemen stood between the path towards the upgraded mansion and the graveled sidewalk beside the road, looking up at the colossal mansion, the plaque in a white stone wall nearby in black and gilded gold, the darker shade of gold of the words ‘Xavier Institute’ written in simple, times new roman font.

The once dead garden up front is now greener and more colorful than even the time Sharon Xavier had an interest in gardening. Students and teachers are all freely showing their abilities out in the open, resting, studying and talking.

Charles had his hands on his pockets and his eyes roaming all around the fine establishment, seeing his past and the future mixed together in one place.

“Is that a second building?” Erik muttered as he turned his head slightly to look behind the mansion, staring with eyebrows raised at the neoclassical architecture of another building, all defined pillars, white stone and clean glass that almost completely mirrors what’s in their surroundings.

“And apparently, a third.” Charles said in disbelief, looking at the peek of another building but this time-

“ _Charles, why do you have a mini empire state bu-_ ”

“It’s _Art Deco_ , Erik.” Charles said.

There’s nothing wrong with Art Deco architecture. Nothing. It’s the pinnacle of intricate, repetitive design on a big scale medium.

They now both know that they might not be needed here after all but they’re here now with no way back, so they have to at least check it out.

“So, the comparison to the Empire State building is not too far-fetched.” He stated before he turned his head to Charles, his reseda green eyes is glittering bright against the sun and with humor on the design choices.

“What’s so bad with the architecture?”

“It’s a tourist attraction.”

“ _The architecture_ , Erik.”

“It could’ve been worse.”

“ _Erik_.” He admonishes. How could he? Art Deco is nice in its own way.

They didn’t know they were walking towards the front door with half of the student body and professors looking at them funny as they passed by them, feeling the overwhelming feeling of great exasperation and fondness pouring out from both of them.

“It’s a building, Charles. I’m neutral because giving opinions about a building is strange.”

“Oh and ‘it could’ve been worse’ is not an opinion?”

“...No.”

They stopped in the middle of the entrance hall, staring at each other silently.

“It’s an opin-”

“No it isn’t.”

“How’d you become so childish?” He said as he rubbed his hands on his face.

“You started it.”

“I just said ‘what’s wrong with the architecture’ and now he’s mad at me.” Charles uttered to himself, ironically, it was said childishly.

“I’m not mad at you, it’s just strange that you want an opinion in a-”

“Building’s appearance, yes, alright, I get it.” He said. Art Deco architecture is great, he thought Erik would appreciate the repetitive aspect of it. To make him say something profound and passionate, to make him sway on his feet after that tense few seconds of conversation they had.

Seeing his pout and the childish resentment sent through the link, Erik rolled his eyes before patting him in the shoulder and resting his hand on top of his shoulder, feeling the surge of sparks go up his arm and streaking his cheeks with red which caused the few big freckles below his eyes and across his nose to show up evidently.

“Art Deco is,” Erik paused, finding a word for it, “innovative.”

He mentally cringed, _innovative_.

“Okay.”

“No, _it is._ "

“Alright.”

“Charles, you’re turning into a child more than a professor.”

Silence.

Silence even from the people who passes by the lobby, only their steps against the tiled floors were heard.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment? How am i supposed to know you have an infatuation with Art Deco?”

He was met with silence.

“Charles?” Erik called, patting his shoulder with the hand resting on it.

“Charles.” He called again, insistently. No, he doesn’t whine.

He pushes and pull his shoulders, calling quietly and firmly, “Charles.”

“Charles?” Someone asked shakily, wet and broken from behind them.

They turned around in unison to look behind them, where Raven stood, shaking in her spot and her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Raven.” Charles and Erik both said in unison before glancing at each other. Must be a side effect of being tied together, knowing what actions the other would do next.

“You still look young!” Charles exclaimed excitedly, “oh, it’s probably from your ever shifting cells, i wonder if it’s just a longer lifespan or possibly the answer to immortality, are there any tests as to what y-”

“Charles.” His friend called him, holding him tighter by his shoulder to stop him as Raven went teary-eyed in front of them before going into full heaving sobs, crying a bit loudly enough for everyone in the lobby to hear.

Erik tensed up as a hundred pairs of eyes burn down their backs and each sides, glancing at a worried Charles beside him.

Raven ran towards them, hugging them tightly before she caressed Charles’ mop of hair, patting his arms and shoulders; looking at him up and down, holding any visible skin she could touch while teary-eyed and silently sobbing. Saying something incomprehensible because of her face mushed on his shoulders.

She looked up and faced Erik which made him cross his arms in disagreement. No, he doesn’t need Raven touching him or worrying about him, he’s fine.

She did it anyway, pulling at the sleeves of his leather jacket, peeking at the arms below which made him feel embarrassed, blushing slightly as he pulled his wrist away from her hold. Alas, she persists, looking at him up and down before she twirled around him like a predator circling her prey, tugging at the hem of his jacket or pulling a few strands of his auburn hair and _he really does not like that_.

“Raven, what’s gotten into you?” He spoke incredulously, his voice thick with an old German accent that newer kids have never even heard of, massaging his scalp at her harsh tugs.

Charles giggled silently as he looked at the intensive, meticulous Raven looking at them both in her natural skin which made him feel proud, echoed by Erik that gave Charles his signature smile as she continued to stare.

“How is this even possible?” She asked in thought, looking at both of them straight in the eyes, “you two look young and kind of... _better_ than back then, am I hallucinating? Oh god, am I talking to myself? I am talking to myself aren’t I?”

“ _What the fuck._ ”

Charles and Erik looked to their left, eerily in unison just as the Frost sisters do sometimes.

“Oh, what the fuck.” Alex cursed again as he took a step back, his right hand holding a mug of steaming coffee that spilled a little in his hand as he darted his gaze at his professor which is on his early 20s and Lehnsherr—he doesn’t want to call him Magneto anymore—on his mid 20s.

“Summers, you look old,” Erik bluntly stated before he rubbed the side of his forehead this time. His mind not understanding the aged Alex in front of him and also from Charles’ shock at Sean beside him who also looked old, “What date is it today?”

“Uhhh,” Sean, as always, has been a bit slow but he’s getting better, “3rd of October, 2019.”

“20-” Charles wheezed in disbelief but stopped, looking at Erik in dread, “ _bloody hell_ , we’re in the middle of the 21st century.”

Erik massaged the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, still not comprehending Alex and now Sean’s age, calculating it in his mind and then the cherry on top is that they’re on a completely different era altogether, on a completely different century.

Hank popped out of the hallway underneath the staircase before stopping in his tracks as everyone’s whispered to their peers now, talking about the two handsome men that’s actually from the past.

Charles narrowed his eyes at the man, seeing a familiar face underneath all the blue fur before his eyes widened, Hank’s old features flashing in his mind’s eye.

“Hank?” He asked in disbelief, “lad, what happened to you?”

“That’s Hank?” Erik said, _apparently Hank is now blue_. What else?

He shouldn’t have accepted Charles’ offer when the future looks more like an alternate universe rather than an eccentric, Utopian future. He’s still not done calculating their ages and just how many years has passed.

“No, answer my question professor, how did you two get here?” Hank asked fiercely, growling suspiciously.

_‘Before you go, please keep this a secret, don’t tell this to anyone. It could lead to a breakage in time.’_

Erik’s eye twitched at the lady’s words, warning them of their sworn secrecy and before Charles could speak, he grabbed him by the elbow, replaying the words and sending it through the link.

“ _They’re not going to say this to anybody else._ ” Charles sent the thought conspiratorially, leaning close to Erik.

“ _What if someone plucked it out of their minds or they accidentally broadcast it to nearby telepaths. What if one day, they’ll be inebriated out of their minds and tell it to someone else?_ ” Erik whispers back, scared of even talking through their minds, “ _What if they get tortured because of that information, solely because they know the answer to partial time travel? What then?"_

The telepath grabbed his wrist, removing it from his elbows and keeping his hold there, trying to calm the anxiety-filled Erik.

“ _Charles, we’re not the only one that wants to go to the future._ ” He said through the link, sending pity and sadness in the invisible cord in an unsure manner.

Suddenly, a flash of guilt washed over them, remembering what they forever left behind. The least they could do is to not destroy their world by breaking time, what with the selfishness and impatience that the two have.

“I-” Charles stuttered, turning his head to Hank before shaking his head, his guilt evident through his expressive blue eyes, “Hank, I’m sorry but I can’t tell you how we got here, it may cause... _problems._ ”

A red haired woman alongside a brown-haired man with a red visor stopped at the doorway of the mansion, looking at the standstill that everyone feels.

She can feel Esme, Sophie and Phoebe on the front of the crowd, nearest to the middle of the lobby, their cold eyes seemingly shocked alongside Emma who looked fearful at the both of them, holding the trio back behind her.

“What’s going on here?” She asked with her soft, mild voice. Calming for both the tensed up strangers in the middle of it all.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” The bright blue-eyed stranger said, still holding the other man’s wrist as he cleared his throat, “in theory-”

The auburn haired man scoffed, the other one warned him with a look before turning to her again.

“In theory, we’re not supposed to be in this time period at all,” He said, looking to the side in thought, “or maybe we’re _supposed_ to be here but we may never know.”

“What are your names?” Jean asked, feeling the familiarity of their minds but at the same time, not at all.

The two looked at each other before the man with a British accent spoke, darting their eyes at the two of them.

“My name is Charles Xavier,” He introduced himself with a slight tilt of his head as a greeting, “and this is my friend, Erik Lehnsherr.”

**~~_...————— d y a d —————..._ ~~ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out by the way <3
> 
> This is like my first ever fanfic here in AO3 but i got writing exp at Wattpad, i was there for like three years (i actually wrote original stories not fanfics) but then i got addicted to fanfiction so I moved here in AO3. It's kinda nice here, ngl.


End file.
